Wandering Stranger
by hellowoody22
Summary: Morgan felt it; the end. Despite his sister's intelligence, without knowing it, Lucina by all her meddling was compromising his very existence. He was dying... Something that his mother wasn't going to let happen; after all, his mother was not The tactician for nothing. She had a plan, a plan that could either save the future or destroy it. Morgan-centric/Time travel/MAJOR SPOILERS
1. Chapter 1

**A.N: Hello everybody! I recently finished Fire Emblem: Awakening and boy did I like it! While it wasn't the most "Badass" game of "Badassitude" it was really enjoyable. I liked most of the cast (_which is pretty rare for me_) and I believe that the story is over-packed with potential. **

**This story will be male Morgan-centric and about time-traveling (_despite the prologue, I mean a real good old time travel!_), so, yup, it's Alternative Universe-ish. Some of the characters' names differ from the US-English version since I personally played the ****Non-English ****European version and I kinda really like Cherche's name in the Non-English version : Zelcher, so those that are not accustomed please bare with me. I gave the Avatar a name, I hope you don't mind too much.**

**Also, English is not my mother tongue so...don't be too hard on me 'kay? =) And I'm really open to constructive criticism. **

**The story starts right after chapter 21 : Five Gemstones and has MAJOR spoilers.**

**Disclamer : Everything related to Fire Emblem Awakening belongs to Nintendo/Intelligent Systems; I only own my own ideas and my weird sense of humor, oh! and an overpriced copy of the game.**

Chapter One: Unforgivable.

It was only a little less frightening than it was sickening. It may have been done unwillingly, but the fact still remained; she had betrayed them. She had thought that after all the sleepless nights she had spent trying to come up with better strategies and honing her skills –may it be with tomes or swords –that she wouldn't deceive the Shepherds again.

The young tactician of the Ylisse Army's elite stood in the middle of the hall, steps away from the imposing doors leading out of the Plegia Castle. Her long blond hair, -having fallen from their intricate twists and now shining both with sweat and blood, - cast shadows on her face, shielding her still widened and slightly glistened chestnut eyes from the view of hurrying backs and worried faces.

_Unforgivable_.

What she had done had been completely and utterly unforgivable. In the back of her mind she knew, that just as Chrom had said, her..._friends_ wouldn't hold her responsible for the atrocious act of giving up the very object that had cost the late Exalt's life into the smugly awaiting hands of their enemy. Her father. The very perpetrator of all this madness. Estya couldn't believe that she had the same blood as Validar cursing through her veins. A trembling hand lifted itself reflexively to her mouth, barely fighting the feeling of sickness. She felt manipulated, used, dirty and most of all ashamed of her weak mind. She couldn't be trusted.

When Chrom and Frederick had tried to talk her out of her guilt induced daze, she had unconsciously muttered an answer, not even registering their words. On the other hand, what she didn't miss was the look that was given to her by Lucina. Even in her state she could see the succession of emotions clearly displayed in the young princess' eyes. Anger, doubt, shock, doubt again followed closely by wariness. _Stahl would be proud of my observation skills_, she thought before joining Lon'qu's side. Said swordsman barely spared her a glace, swept the faces of the people closer to them with his guarded eyes before discretely blocking her from the others' views as much as he could.

Frederick led them through the safest and fastest path back to their camp. Few were the ones that had witnessed how their tactician had been possessed –for it had been that, _possession_ – and fortunately all of them were part of the Shepherds. It would have caused quite an uproar if any other soldier, not directly knowing Lady Estya, had been there to later spread the rumor of how the Fire Emblem was lost. He would be making sure of that, even if he knew that none of those that had been present would be inclined to disclose such information to someone beside the inner circle of their group.

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Once they were back at the camp, a good ten hours later, Estya's limbs ached beyond words but her mind was finally cleared. She wasn't a tactician for nothing, scratch that, she wasn't _the_ tactician for nothing. She had to prepare, she had to come up with contingency plans of the contingency plans that were already formed in her head and even were already in motion for some. She had so many things to take into consideration; she needed to know how to make sure to spare most lives, how track down Validar, how to talk with Chrom without jeopardizing her carefully crafted strategies… But all that could wait for she had another priority at that time, the wary eyes following her every move only urged her to find her friend Tharja faster. The dark mage had slipped a note in her pocket while soldiers that had stayed at camp rushed to the Shepherds. It simply stated 'I can make it work' in a surprisingly neat handwriting.

Estya was conflicted. On the one hand, part of her was relieved that the problem that had occupied her mind ever since the children from the future had made themselves known had been partially taken care of. On the other hand, she was anxious that it was only '_partially_ taken care of'. She felt bad for not entirely believing in her friend's skills, but not as bad as she had felt when she actually had dared to come up to the mage with her request.

After a small talk with Tharja and getting rid of the superficial marks of their previous fight, the tactician went a little way from the camp to the nearly glade she had seen on their way back. She wanted to be alone to think about how she was to proceed. She had to talk to her son; she had seen him stumble a few times while walking around the tents, attempting to pass it off as simple fatigue to his friends but failing to hide the nervous glances in her direction. She knew that he didn't want to worry her but she couldn't help it, even if technically he wasn't born yet, he was her son. And soon, she'd put both of their minds at ease. Apparently, Naga really hated her, for the blond strategist wouldn't even get a minute of rest. Her 'shadow' had finally deigned to show in front of her.

"Beg pardon, Mother. Might I have a word?" asked formally Lucina as per usual. After receiving a nod from her…mother… and taking a deep breath, Lucina squared her shoulders and started talking about Chrom.

Estya knew where all of this was leading to; she even had anticipated this reaction from the young princess… but not this soon. The blond couldn't help but feel dread creeping in her heart. _It was too soon, _she couldn't... _not now._

_"_Mother, I… Please, forgive me…" said Lucina while drawing her Falchion. Her hand trembled at the expression on the tactician's face. But she couldn't back out now. "Stay where you are, Mother! In my future, you… You kill Father."

"No! That's insane! Why would I kill Chrom? I –" the older woman didn't want to believe what the other was suggesting and couldn't help but refute the very idea right away but she stopped in horror when she felt as if her heart was clenched by a wyvern's claw. She paled at the implication that her instincts had picked on.

"I was not certain myself, until now… I knew he had been killed by his closest friend. Having witnessed your bond with him, I doubted it could be so… But today's events make it clear. You are at Validar's mercy. I suspect it's he who forces you to take Father's life, and very soon…" it seemed that the princess had already made her choice and even her mother pleading for her to wait didn't seem to stop Lucina. "If my father is right, then we can change our fates. If this dark future is to be averted, sacrifices must be made. I am sorry, Estya! I know this is matricide, I… I know that…" she was trying hard to remain deaf to the tactician's protests. "Don't make it harder! Don't resist, and your death will be swift and painless. If you hold any love for Chrom, then let this be done…"

Before Estya could reply, her chest tightened again, this time even more painfully. "Morgan…" she whispered before she momentary shut her eyes and took a few calming breaths. When her eyes had opened again her determination was strong enough as to make the Falchion falter midair. The strategist could feel Chrom's presence approaching fast in their direction but before the prince could utter a word, Estya took a sudden step away from Lucina and her dangerous sword, in the direction of the camp.

"While you think of your duty as the protector of the future of your people, I have to think of my duty as well! We will finish this later, that I promise you my daugh–… _Princess_ Lucina."

The young girl would have made a move to follow if Chrom's right hand hadn't painfully grabbed by her by the shoulder. "Father…I can explain" Lucina miserably whispered.

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><p>Estya rushed through the camp at a surprisingly fast speed considering how she was supposed to limp because of the many injuries marring her left leg. She didn't even register how desperate and shrill her voice sounded while she yelled "Tharja! Tharja!"<p>

Discretion be damned, she could come up with an excuse to cover it all up later, if she could actually sav – _No!_ She had to stop thinking about that possibility. What she needed at the moment was the dark mage's talents and to be by her son's side.

For several months now she had seen just how much Lucina was changing their lives and fates, even if the princess herself didn't. While she didn't know just how much good the fact that she had altered the Khans lives' could possibly do, she was also unaware of what she had put her brother through.

Every time that Lucina had succeeded in steering Chrom away from the tactician, Morgan's steps would falter. At first it just seemed to be a coincidence to Estya, but the more it happened the more undeniable it got. Morgan was slowly dying… contrary to Lucina, that had been already born in their time, the young tactician's future existence could still be compromised. And by the choices Lucina had made ever since Basilio's demise, -her so called "second failure"- , had progressively put more of a strain on Morgan's health.

Ultimately, when Lucina had decided to…get rid of Estya, the tactician had felt the danger of the very thought of it. Ever since she had started to worry about the possibility of her son actually not being born, she had asked help from the only person she could think of. Tharja. She needed to make sure of Morgan's wellbeing. She had literally breathed in every grimoire she could get her hands on with the same vigor as a starving Stahl, she had even accepted Gaius' help despite what her moral code dictated her.

Still calling out for the dark mage, Estya's frenetic steps took her right beside her son's tent. All around her different Shepherds tried to understand what had put her in such a state and what they could do to help. She didn't hear any of it; she just kept desperately calling her friend's name over and over again. The tactician had to be by her son's side for what was to come, but she needed Tharja just as much. The adrenalin having slowly ebbed away from her veins made her knees buckle, right before they could hit the floor a firm hand gripped her by an upper arm. Acting completely out of reflex, she twisted out of the hold while clenching the offending limb in a bruising hold and turning rapidly around, her other hand already buzzing with barely restrained energy millimeters away from her "assailant's" face.

The small bolts swirling around the tactician's hand cast Gregor's face in an unnatural glow. The mercenary didn't flinch and instead helped to steady her on her feet before abruptly lifting her on his left shoulder like a mere sack of potatoes. "Gregor sent to find crazy tactician and bring her to Tharja." The colossus said while hurrying in the opposite direction. "Gregor has task, you lot has tasks to do, no?"

When Ricken had opened his mouth to ask just what in the name of Naga was going on, he nearly choked on a candy. With the young magician distracted, and now throwing a glare at him –more like pouting childishly – Gaius looked worriedly over at the other dark mage of their group of misfits. And he didn't like what he saw; Henry didn't have his trademark smile on his face and his eyes were fully opened and pensive. It appeared to the "former" thief that their magicians were all feeling a little off in the past days. Their tactician looked restless and stressed beyond words, her son didn't take part in the last couple of training sessions organized by Slavedriver dearest, Ricken seemed edgy, Specs was even more observant than before; Henry was less creepy than usual –and that's what really creeped Gaius out –, while Tharja was practically invisible… Whatever it was, he knew that it was better to let both Sunshine and Bubbles to their spooky stuff.

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><p>When Estya had entered Tharja's tent, her gaze had directly settled on Morgan's relatively small form breathing painfully on the cot that was encircled by numerous sheets covered by strange markings in what appeared to be blood. The dark haired mage was standing by the young boy's head, her eyes looking angry.<p>

"So, this means that I'm really going to die before my son is born…?" Estya asked miserably. This was just confirming the theory they had come up with. She looked uncharacteristically grim.

"Unforgivable…" Tharja muttered her head down and her hands gently holding Morgan's head.

"Will it be a Risen, a plegian soldier, an ally…? Grima? Or even my own daughter? "

"All of this…unforgivable… What you are doing right now, is unforgivable too. I didn't follow that airheaded prince so I could witness your self-pity party." She slowly lifted her head and looked Estya right in the eyes with a still angry look. "If you die before me, you'd better run in the afterlife."

The familiar sentence, often uttered to her before a battle, brought the tactician out of her peculiar state; they had work to do. After all, messing the equilibrium of time and space wasn't a laughing matter. Both of them had been preparing for this for months and had found how to do it only by interweaving different, horrendously dark curses with alchemy and intricate holy magic. They were about to bind Morgan to this world, by blood and by magic. It was clear to them that something to prevent the young tactician's birth was going to happen soon, as much as Tharja didn't want to admit. While it was still only a "possibility", Estya didn't want to take a risk and just wait for things to happen, so the dark mage started. What they were about to do would leave Tharja extremely tired, Morgan in even more pain for a while and Estya depleted of every ounce of her magic. But she would be damned –quite literally – if she didn't succeed to do the only thing the strategist had ever asked her. If she was honest with herself, Tharja didn't want to lose young Morgan; it wasn't because he had grown on her or that he was technically part of Estya and had actually helped the dark mage in getting closer to the blond tactician… Definitely not because of that.

.

It was as if the whole camp had stilled. Chrom and Lucina had been walking back to the camp in a rather tense silence after their lengthy talk. They stopped feeling as if something was about to happen. Not too far from them, Frederick accompanied by Cordelia and Zelcher, interrupted their checking of the army's weaponry in favor of going to calm down their respective mount. Panne had a pensive expression on her face while her son twitched at every sound anxiously.

Suddenly, a dark wyvern dropped beside Lucina; Gerome quickly dismounted his Minerva and stood protectively by the princess. Before he could utter a word, or even a look at said woman, a bloodcurdling scream resounded through the camp followed closely by a shockwave of magic. And silence reigned on them again.

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**A.N: I hope you are intrigued. Don't forget to leave a review to tell me what you thought of it =)**

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**Trivia: Did you know, that in the Non-English European version of Fire Emblem: Awakening Morgan's name is Linfan?**


	2. Chapter Two : Remember

**A.N. : Hey-hey! It's been a while =) Uni is quite a tiring thing, huh? Anyway, I hope you are ready for a little more of incomprehensible explanations.  
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**I'd like to remind you guys that this is a male Morgan-centric story and about time traveling. **

**Divergent from chapter 22 and on. Spoilers for the whole game.**

**I don't have a beta and English is not my mother tongue aaaaaand everything related to the Fire Emblem Awakening belongs to Nintendo/Intelligent Systems aside from the batsh*t crazy plot and my weird sense of humor. **

**Chapter two: Remember.**

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All he could see was white. Or was it red? Actually, he didn't exactly see anything, so the insipid wasteland that he found himself in may have been caused by something else entirely. _Pain. _

Morgan's eyes were shut tightly, his lips were trembling mercilessly and along with his wrinkled forehead it all painted an agonizing expression on his young face. He didn't know how long he had stayed in that state, only that it had suddenly gotten worse. Then, after some mumbling from a seemingly female voice accompanied by shuffling, he literally felt calmness seeping into him. He had a weird sense of _déjà-vu_. He would have thanked that person if he could, but before he had time to gather his wits, he muttered out a word, almost reflexively. "Mo-…ther?"

The young man felt a gentle hand softly brushing his hair from his forehead to replace the rag soaked with his sweat by a fresh and cold one. Yes, it was definitely his mother; he could feel, as per usual, how she always gently held his head and how the different talismans on her wrists jingled gently by his ears.

Wait, his mother didn't wear any sort of jewelry apart from the ring given to her by his father and a mysterious pendant usually hidden under her coat. Plus, his mother's hands were roughened by the use of her sword and her incessant and furious writing… He could remember how she would lovingly and lightly, yet awkwardly hug him just as well as he could reminisce how the famed tactician of the Ylissian Army always gave him literally breathtaking embraces. He remembered that he always associated the smell of lilies to his mother –he could even smell it at that very moment –, but he knew that Estya usually carried around her a distinctive aroma of fruity soap, honey cakes and ink.

.

It was all so confusing… when he tried to recall his early memories of his mother he only came up with facts; no faces, no background, no sound…only pieces of information with some strange details, as if read from a book. He could perfectly picture his mother helping him train some months ago, how she fussed over him, how she would sometimes give him a really proud look while smiling softly, yet… Morgan tried turning his face toward his mother to ask if the ritual had actually worked, because he wasn't feeling any better. The reason for such a drastic magical act had slowly made itself know not long after Morgan had joined the Shepherds. He could only remember things about his mother at the time, but he had slowly started discovering his father and his sister. A sister that seemed so different from him; she was at the same time a powerful warrior and a fragile girl. Both of them had tried to get to know each other better but she never seemed to relax when their father wasn't around and seemed quite tensed whenever their parents were together. Strange thing was, she wasn't the only one that seemed to shadow their parents' every move. He easily saw how Miriel would watch the couple for some minutes, jolt down something on one of her books then return to whatever she was doing beforehand. He had witnessed how Henry would warily glance in their direction before focusing his gaze on Lucina or Morgan himself, his trademark smile back in place. He felt, more than saw, Tharja always lurking somewhere not too far. And last but not least, Laurent would, more often than not, alternate between watching his parents expectantly, or more precisely his mother, and giving Morgan a somewhat reproachful look.

Now, that he thought about Laurent, he couldn't help but wonder if he knew much more than he let on. The first time they had met had been at Desert Oasis. Morgan had been wandering around the oasis while looking for a hurt villager when he had stumbled upon Laurent. His reaction to Morgan's arrival had, by far, been the most interesting one. Relief. Laurent's body had visibly deflated as if losing all tension and the smile on his face –_the first and practically the last, for quite some time_–had shown just how glad he was to see him "_again_". Then there was unsurprisingly a blank and he found himself in the middle of the battlefield, trying to defend the innocent villagers from the mercenaries.

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It wasn't the time to think about Laurent, he had more pressing matters to attend to. His mother…he had to ask…_But, if it had worked, she wouldn't be here, right? _He wondered, his mind still , just as he was thinking that, the rag was once again replaced by a fresh one. Cracking his eyes open, he saw his mother's spotless right hand first; his eyes followed the arm's length to stop a little below her neck. A little higher up, a shock of straight brown hair glaringly stated that this wasn't Estya, the Great Tactician of the Shepherds. No, this was a dark mage. It was an awfully _younger_ dark mage that had, just a moment ago, threatened him into staying alive and _living_ if he didn't want to be killed by her right after being resurrected beforehand.

Tharja was looking at him a little disdainfully with interest barely hidden in her dark eyes. "It worked…" was all he could say. Ah, now he could remember it, indeed Estya was the last person he had seen. Their last talk had been engraved in his memory; how she stood in front of him in all her usual glory with her hair in their usual intricate up-do, not a single spot marring her clothes and a determined look lightning up her face. But, something wasn't right... Morgan could clearly recall every single hopeless moment of how she had gotten injured while escaping the Plegian Castle. It had been a Risen soldier's wyvern's claw that had desperately tried to slow the tactician down, right before having its limb cleanly cut by Libra's holy axe. Also, her hands were in front of her, palm to palm, with blood slowly dripping out of them down the nothingness that surrounded both him and Estya.

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_"Sorry that we had to use this, but this is the only thing that we were sure could work in our situation. We don't have much time out there, but here...I figured I'd have just about enough to at least warn you of some things. Do you recognize this place, son?" _A bitter smile formed on the blonde's face as the young man in front of her looked at her in astonishment.

_"Mother? Did you use the Oath on me? I thought that it could only be possible to come here if the one requesting the Oath had the other pronouncing the consenting spell...I don't remember agreeing to-"_

_"There are many questions that can be answered by blood" his mother interrupted grimly. "As you know this spell is usually used to insure secrecy and authenticity of words shared between two dark mages. The negotiations don't exceed a couple of minutes as it sucks up both parties' magic... Who would have known that old dark families had their own bloody alternative; well aside from Henry, that is?" _

_"What is going on Mother?" _asked Morgan, worry dripping from every whispered word.

_"I wish there was another way...but alas I'm more selfish than you give me credit. I don't want to lose you Morgan. This war isn't yours nor your sister's and your friends' to fight despite what all of you seem to believe, but the choice has been made for you before I could do anything..._

_Listen, what Tharja, Libra and I are doing right now is beyond wrong on so many levels, but __**you**__ can make it right and I don't want you to survive my son, I want you to __**live**__...yet in a way I'm condemning you again. As you know, your very existence was slowly compromised by mending from the future. The only way to remedy to that was to bind it to the world, by blood and by magic." _Estya's voice had gone from desperate to angry, then determined and ended in a remorseful whisper. Her son's face was contorted in a painful expression as his quick mind, apparently inherited from her, analyzed every possibility.

_"But what about the equilibrium you talked about? Equivalent exchange...?" _His gaze lowered, and if there had been a floor in the timeless realm they found themselves in, he was sure it would have been beyond interesting.

_"I have been a tactician since the very beginning of this stage of the war. I have seen many atrocities, done just as much...and remember witnessing even more. I know the meaning of sacrifice." _The unseeing empty look in her eyes discouraged Morgan from inquiring about her memories coming back. "_Shortly you will know everything…some of my memories came back to me thanks to Henry, but you'll get the details later…along with all of my memories once the transfer is done. I know that this is unfair, but I couldn't for the life of me find anything more sensible than this. Gods, I know that this is wrong, but we're at war, people are dying faster than I can come up with strategies to save them, Maribelle and Vaike are still in a critical state, I gave up the Fire Emblem, you are slipping right out of our lives and if I don't do anything, Chrom is going to-…_". Morgan definitely wasn't used to seeing his mother in such a distraught state, it was quite frightening to have the one considered the pillar of the Shepherds crumble before his eyes, but at the same time it showed that –contrary to popular belief– she was still only human. However it only lasted a moment as her shoulders lifted themselves from their distressed tilt and her eyes found his again.

"_This is quite different from what you have done with your friends. Naga doesn't really seem that friendly with me and doesn't tolerate interfering with time. How hypocritical, right?_" she started explaining with a mocking face reminiscent of a certain thief with a sweet-tooth. "_We're going to send you back, son. Again, and it will be farther in the past than the first time. Approximately six years from now. I would have liked for us to prepare even more and I had so many things that I wanted to share with you, but I guess you'll just have to find me there_."

"_I understand. I know I should feel something other than resignation and determination at the same time, but I'll do it Mother. I'll do everything to save you and Father…Lucina, Tharja, Lissa, everyone._"

"_I know you will, Morgan. I know._" she whispered looking at him with a mix of pride and sadness. "_I know many useful things; have learned some quite interesting spells and tricks these last few months as you'll see. But listen, the things that the other Shepherds have confided in me aren't easy to absorb for some and the things that this war showed me aren't any better, just as like I remember my past to be. However, I trust your judgment with everything. All I ask is to try and help to spare as many lives as possible; not that saving anyone will be a simple feat but, please do try._

_Once there, you should find Tharja or myself. At that time I should still be in the Mirage Village by the oasis, but before that…_"

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Would they have been in a normal setting, the conversation that had followed would have been carried on for at least twelve hours. Yet, outside from the timeless realm that had been opened by the "Oath", used by dark mages in the old days to come to agreements, it hadn't even lasted beyond the blink on an eye. His mother had given him a last loving and proud look before his very being was set on fire. He had felt like a hot coal, his mind was as if split in two then stretched and pieced back together; his erratic magic was slipping out from his grasp and he could feel himself scream right before it all ended again.

A moment later he had found himself still screaming in the middle of a field of waist-high grass and now here he was… But how had he gotten here? And how come Tharja, albeit younger, was there with him? Before he could get an answer the smell of lilies lulled him to sleep with the same facility as in his tender years.

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**A.N.: There you go! I hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought of it and if you have any questions feel free to ask =) **

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**Trivia : Did you know that in French, "Cherche" is the imperative of "to search". I guess it would have been pretty weird to keep it as her name. **

**Stay Awesome! **


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